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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092389">Stand Still</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plumbob7/pseuds/Plumbob7'>Plumbob7</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pride and Prejudice &amp; Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drama &amp; Romance, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, My First Work in This Fandom, Time Travel, Vampires, Work In Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:21:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,361</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plumbob7/pseuds/Plumbob7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth is a time traveler stuck living with the Collins in nineteenth century England, a re-imagining separate from the Bennet family. She will be faced with an impossible decision: to accept her circumstances or to make an alliance with the mysterious Mr. Darcy. What will she choose?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anne de Bourgh/Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Elizabeth Bennet/George Wickham, William Collins/Charlotte Lucas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 1</strong>


</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a forced smile, I turned down yet <em>another</em> glass of wine as politely as I could manage. The waiter barely looked at me before walking off with his tray of wine glasses. His face is void of emotion, like he would rather be anywhere else but here at this ball. “<em>That makes two of us pal</em>.” I watched his retreating body as he moved onto the next group of drunken men adjacent to me. If only Charlotte hadn’t convinced me to come tonight. Parties make me uncomfortable with all of the dancing and socializing lately. Of course, it was my obligation to come being the guest of her husband, Mr. Collins, and normally I wouldn’t be so cross but I saw Mr. Darcy earlier. I frowned into my water glass, “<em>Why is he here of all places? Doesn’t he have more extravagant parties to attend?</em>”</p>
<p>I decided to scan the room for my dearest friend, Charlotte. I found her by the far east wall next to some colleagues of Mr. Collins. Her eyebrow is quirked and her lips are thin. She made sure that our eyes met before turning to her husband and whispering something in his ear, he nodded whilst looking at me. She then ticked her head swiftly towards the nearest room, away from the gathering. “<em>Great</em>,” I thought<em>, “another talk</em>.”  If I were back home, I would have dragged my feet dramatically after her. This was not the first time she has pulled me aside this evening. I’m positive that I am testing her patience tonight.</p>
<p>I passed many laughing and drinking guests as I trailed after Charlotte. The small orchestra is playing a fast-paced melody for the brave few whom tempted to keep up dancing. The music reminded me of Mr. Darcy standing by the piano. Dare I check if he is still standing there? I glance over attempting to appear as if I am just scoping out the room and I see that he is indeed still looking at me.</p>
<p>It wasn’t obvious enough to draw attention to the people standing around him. He was centered around two women and a tall gentleman with a mustache that twisted upwards. The mustached man is obviously telling quite an exciting story as his hands waving around wildly and a large drunken grin is firmly planted. Nevertheless, Mr. Darcy managed to keep his attention pointed to his friend and still flicker his eyes to me, as if tracking me. <em> “If I can just get through this party...”</em> I thought, quickening my pace, weaving through shoulders and elbows.</p>
<p>Most of the women seemed to be wearing various hues of white dresses. Private balls encouraged everyone to show off their wealth. White is infamous for being difficult to keep clean, a lesson I learned the hard way since I now have to hand wash all of my clothes. The women are wearing big hats or elaborate up-dos with soft curls framing their faces. As usual, I was borrowing the same gown from Charlotte: an eggshell white dress with dainty lace and tiny roses lining my waist with a deep square cut down my chest, which makes me insecure considering how small my bust is. My hair was fashioned into a loose bun with pearl tipped pins holding loose strands of hair into a curl. Thankfully, Charlotte left my bangs down; I was terribly insecure about my large forehead. The men were mostly wearing dark colors which was intentional to contrast to the women’s white dresses. Charlotte caught my arm, pulling me into the dark room and against a shadowed wall next to a gigantic book case.</p>
<p> “Elizabeth, are you still feeling ill?” Charlotte asked with a bit of impatience showing through her sweet demeanor.</p>
<p>I could tell she was suspicious of me as her accusing eyes heated my face with guilt. I hated lying to her. After all, she is my only friend in this new life that I am trapped in. She’s the only soul who knows I am a time traveler in this era and, bless her, she did not think me insane. She pinned it to an overactive imagination and what she suspects is amnesia since I have no recollection of a family I could be returned to. Of course, I do have a family, they’re just 200 years into the future. However, I do not fault her for trying to make sense of it, I am of a sound mind in all other aspects. After all, I’m sharp and decently attractive, there was no reason for her to think something was wrong with me.</p>
<p>Nothing got past Charlotte. Half an hour ago I had rudely rejected Mr. Thompson’s offer to dance by waving my hand and loudly telling him, “No, thanks.” Even from across the ballroom she had seen my rude gesture and hurried over. This resulted in Charlotte immediately excusing us to the loo. When we headed in the opposite direction of the loo, I realized I was about to be scolded.  She lectured me in this same room for my cheeky attitude. I told her I didn’t feel well and that was the source of my sour mood. She clearly isn’t convinced now. I had to give her something, even if it was just a small piece of the truth.</p>
<p>“He continues to stare at me, Charlotte,” I finally managed.</p>
<p>“Who is staring at you?” she said, straightening up. I realized she had been leaning forward slightly, awaiting my reply with her sweet face scrunched into worry.</p>
<p>“Mr. Darcy”, I replied, looking away. I knew what he wanted and it scared me, there’s no way I could share this with Charlotte. I worried it would challenge her opinion regarding my sanity. Mr. Darcy is a well-respected man and there is perceivably no reason for anyone to fear him.</p>
<p>“Elizabeth,” her eyes softened, “I know it can be scary to be in the company of men,” she said quietly, paranoid that we might be overheard. “But until you can, uh, return to your time, you must keep up your part of the deal and mingle. Mr. Collins is getting impatient. Besides, you’re twenty-three years old and unmarried.” She paused, “It comes off as a bit suspicious.” She tried to give me a sympathetic smile but I could see the pity plain as day on her face.</p>
<p>I knew she was right. I had to do my part to keep up the façade, not just for my sake but for hers too. Her husband, Mr. Collins, has tolerated my stay in his estate for four years. However, the casual suggestions to attend more events were becoming more frequent, and people were starting to become suspicious. In this time, it is unusual for a beautiful woman as old as me to remain unwed. Mr. Collins is a kind, but odd, man. Charlotte was very lucky to marry into his family with his mild temperament and stable income. I was even more grateful to be taken in by them, especially for so long.</p>
<p>I met her eyes square on, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m feeling much better.” I felt childish admitting my guilt.</p>
<p>Charlotte smiled triumphantly and took my hands into hers.</p>
<p>“Lizzy, if you would just give someone a chance- “she started.</p>
<p>“I will,” I quickly cut her off. “I’ll try to lighten up.” I shrugged trying to convey surrender. She didn’t seem to understand. I don’t want to find love here, what I want is to find a way home. “<em>This is just temporary</em>,” I thought, trying to reassure myself. I wrapped my arms around Charlotte's small shoulders and smiled as much as I could manage when I pulled away. “Let’s go mingle.”</p>
<p>We rejoined the ball. Charlotte squeezed my hand before returning to her husband's side. I gave her a small reassuring smile and glanced around the hall for a familiar face to latch onto. I saw Mary standing near the dance floor, she is too shy to dance but is forever longing that someone will ask her. Unfortunately, she is not much fun to socialize with due to her uncanny ability to let the conversation be killed stone dead from its very infancy. She floods the conversation with an avalanche of facts after simply being asked how she is enjoying the party.  I had a tender place in my heart for her, but I was not in the mood to deal with excessive boredom tonight. In fact, I want to have my spirits lifted. I scanned the room again.</p>
<p>Lydia looked more appealing, as there were three men and four women in her group of eight. As I headed over to join Lydia, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek over to the piano. To my surprise, Mr. Darcy was no longer there. Despite the shiver that shot up my spine, I felt relieved that he must have gone home. The stress of being tracked was exhausting my nerves.  </p>
<p>Mr. Darcy wasn’t repulsive or unattractive by any means. On the contrary, he was very handsome. He was tall and fit, with dark brown hair that was smoothed back into a ponytail and tied with a dulled red ribbon. He also had a close-trimmed beard and pale blue eyes. He was wearing a long dark cape with a deep burgundy peeking out from the lining. If we were back home, I would not hesitate to make myself known to him. But we were not home, and even worse, I already knew of his intentions.</p>
<p>As I approached the group, the sounds of the ballroom faded and were replaced with the sounds of Lydia. She was quite short with mousy brown hair and freckles that were very prominent in the summer. For being only fifteen she had many opinions that she justifies with many falsehoods. I felt that she would say most anything to keep the attention of her peers. Today she was showing off her knowledge of William Blake’s poem <em>To Autumn.</em></p>
<p>Amused by Lydia’s fierce but entertaining finger waggling and boisterous statements, I listened to her interpretation of the poem knowing that she would appear ignorant. Of course, I would never speak up. After four years, I find myself insecure with fear of letting something slip in conversation that has not yet happened. This is always a problem with time travelers, slip ups happen. We can be accredited to a handful of aspired inventions that seemed “before their time.” Anyway, it was just easier to lend a listening ear and learn what I could about those around me.</p>
<p>I knew, for example, that Lydia and Mary were sisters. In fact, they have two more sisters twirling around the dance floor, and they are all quite beautiful. Jane, the oldest, has strawberry blonde hair with bright warm eyes and is, without question, the most attractive of the four. Mary, however, is Jane’s polar opposite. She has very dark brown hair with soft features and down-turned eyes. The third sister, Kitty, has wispy brown hair and is rarely seen without a big smile. I like Kitty quite a bit, and if she were a couple years older, I imagine we would be good friends. The fourth sister, Lydia, has medium brown hair and a tiny nose that pinched up. Lydia always caused the most problems for the Bennets' as she is quite rambunctious and in constant need of male attention. It’s easy to dismiss her behavior as childish. Although, when she thinks no one is looking, I’ve spotted her looking quite forlorn. It must be hard to be in constant competition for attention among so many beautiful sisters.</p>
<p>Lydia starts to argue flirtatiously and quite loudly with the decorated soldier at her side, but he seemed to be enjoying the attention. I laughed as Lydia turned her waggling finger at the soldier with her hand on her hip. Suddenly, a deep burgundy blur caught the corner of my eye as it flickered by. My heart accelerated.  I immediately turn my attention to the young man on my right. He couldn’t have been older than 18, barely a legal adult back home, but he is definitely a man in this ballroom. He stood tall and proud, smiling. I had to think of something to talk about quickly.</p>
<p>“What do you think of <em>To Autumn</em>?” I said loud enough to be heard over Lydia but fast enough to encourage a quick response. I was drumming my fingers on my water glass, impatiently.</p>
<p>He stammered “I- I,” looking from me to the remaining unspoken for man across the social circle and back to me. He managed, “Poetry reading is not something I do in my leisure.” His face flushed red, probably from embarrassment. “<em>Why do I always say the wrong thing?”</em> Frustrated and desperate, I attempted to turn to my left, but was too late. I felt a gentle hand on my middle back and heard a deep voice in my ear. I squeezed my eyes together. “<em>Oh no.” </em></p>
<p>“Miss Elizabeth, May I have the next dance?”</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Authors Note:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just to put it out there, this is my first Fanfic that I've ever written. I'd love to know what you think and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I do not own any Pride and Prejudice properties, nor do I make any money from writing this story.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>“Miss Elizabeth, may I have the next dance?”</p>
<p>Overcome by anxiety, I twisted away from his touch, desperate to put some distance between us. I became well aware of the attention that my sudden outburst has presented me, as I am now standing more in the middle of the circle than around it. Lydia is no longer talking and her mouth is slightly hanging open as if she is confused<em>. “Oh crap.” </em>I finally look at Mr. Darcy as I try to collect myself. He looks uncomfortable but he clears his throat and offers again, “Miss Elizabeth, may I have the next dance?” This is said more carefully and slowly than before as if to give our new audience the impression that I am slow-witted or skittish. I bite my tongue to keep the anger at bay and he fidgets with his long burgundy cloak as if to do the same.</p>
<p>Lydia and the clueless man I had attempted to discuss <em>To Autumn</em> with of just a moment ago, are looking at me with wide eyes, shocked that I have insulted the well-respected Mr. Darcy with my neurotic theatrics.</p>
<p>“I-I,” I stammer desperately looking around and finally back to Mr. Darcy. He looks so sure of himself, so smug. If I had any confidence at all that it would be without consequence, I would turn my back on him now and run, but I know I cannot. Taking a deep shaky breath, I stand tall again and reply, “You may.”</p>
<p>Slowly I turn to the clueless man on my right, well now on my left after my spin, I give him a small bow as a farewell before following Mr. Darcy toward the large group of dancers and sideline admirers. Making sure to keep my distance, I racked my brain for any pure reason for his sudden interest in me. I could not think of one. Fear shot down to my fingertips, making them cold and prickly as my panic was building. “<em>I can’t outrun him, perhaps if I excuse myself to the bathroom, I can find a way home and give Charlotte some lame excuse for bailing</em>…” This comforts me and I start to calm down. “<em>Yeah, it’ll be fine. I’ll just leave.”</em></p>
<p>Mr. Darcy stopped once we reached the admiring crowd. Everyone is clapping and laughing with the rhythm of the melody and looks to be having a lovely time. I am temporarily distracted by my admiration for the large feathers bouncing from the tops of some women’s impossibly tall hair. It is hard not to be jealous the bold women whom can easily translate their personalities into their clothing, it must take such courage and creativity. I sigh and peek over to Mr. Darcy, he too seems to be absorbed in the dancing feathers, unless he has more sinister things on his mind.</p>
<p>The music stopped and simultaneously everyone started to clap. I see my opportunity and turn in the direction of the loo, knowing I am running out of time. I make it about six paces before Mr. Darcy materializes by my side.</p>
<p>“Might I ask, where you are running off to?” His voice is so pleasant, I can see why he is so easily liked, but his eyes read as a warning. I gulp nervously.</p>
<p>“I must check on Charlotte, she-,” I pause as I scrabble for a lie, “-is not feeling well. I want to make sure she is alright<em>.</em>”</p>
<p>“I can assure you, she is perfectly healthy,” He gives me a look as if he dares me to press this matter further. I sigh in defeat.</p>
<p>Making sure that I take the lead this time, Mr. Darcy gestures for me to find a spot on the left side of the line with the other women. I choose a spot at the end of the line-up closest to the nearest exit, just in case. He takes his spot across from me, holding my eyes and looking rather victorious.</p>
<p>After another minute or so the violin starts and the whole lot of us bow to start our dance. I don’t particularly dislike dancing; in fact, it could be quite enjoyable if you are lucky enough to get a vibrant song because everyone gets to hop, clap, and grin without appearing foolish. I wasn’t so lucky this time as this was a slow violin piece and that meant a more intimate dance.</p>
<p>As he took my hand to begin, what appeared to be the start of a dance called <em>Schottische</em>, a flash of gold caught my eye on his right hand; a gold ring with a pitch-black onyx set into the metal was worn on his thumb. A memory washed over me.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>We stood there on top of the hill, stunned. The whole village was scorched stone and ash with billows of smoke relentlessly assaulting the air above with thick black waves. I looked up at my mother, her face was distraught and tears were had filled her eyes. I had to look away swiftly. I hated to see my mother so sad. I dared a glance at my father, and, to my surprise, he looked absolutely enraged. I had never seen him so furious; his face was beet red and the line between his eyebrows was a solid dark line.</p>
<p>He grabbed my hand roughly and started for the north side of the village where the flames appeared to have died out. As I stumbled down the grassy hill trailing my father, I looked over my shoulder to my mother still standing there, wiping her eyes. It was midday but the smoke had cast a grey cloud over the sun leaving everything around us to be tinted in a shadow, even though I could see blue skies all around the smoke cloud.</p>
<p>We came to visit my great grandmother’s childhood home through Dads time machine. The year was 1911 and she had lived in a small village just outside of Dublin called Edmondstown. Mom said little more than 100 people lived here, it was so small! She also told me that Nan always wanted her to try Mr. MacKelly’s Shepherd’s pie and would try in vain to recreate it. In fact, this was the whole reason for our visit since Nan had died a few months ago. We were careful to set the time to after Nan had moved to the United States, but only right after in hopes that Mr. MacKelly was still alive.</p>
<p>“Mom!” I yelled, trying to get her attention. “Come on, Mom, we’ve got to go!” It was dawning on me that Mom might be in shock.</p>
<p>“We’ll come back for her,” dad said gruffly, barely looking over at me.</p>
<p>Dad finally stopped when we found what he had seen on the hill. Sitting next to a burned down house was an old woman just staring at her dirty hem. Occasionally she would tremble as if she were cold. Dad looked at me and let go of my wrist to wave me back a few feet. I did as he asked without a word, too scared to ask what was going on.</p>
<p>“Are you okay, mam?” Dad knelt down slowly extending his arm to touch her but didn’t quite make it before he dropped it to his side. “Are you hurt?”</p>
<p>The old woman looked up at him. Her hair was grey and black from soot and age, her skin looked unhealthy and diseased, but that wasn’t as disturbing as her eyes. Dad stumbled back a bit when she turned them on him.</p>
<p>“Wha-what happened here?” Dad asked.</p>
<p>She turned her head away from my father and locked eyes with me. I was frozen where I stood as if some unnatural force had instructed me to be very still. After a moment she answered in her native tongue, “Vaimpir.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why do you look so scared, time traveler?” Mr. Darcy breathed during a twirl.</p>
<p>I was not surprised that he knew I was a time traveler. A perk of immortality is knowledge of even the best kept secrets and, despite my best efforts, it was difficult to completely blend in to a time that you were not born into. This explains why he has been watching me all night. I frowned in response.</p>
<p>“What’s keeping you here?” He said openly this time, looking amused as we looped apart and came back together again. “<em>How </em>long<em> is this dance?” </em>Ithought impatiently.</p>
<p>I searched for something to say but was, thankfully, interrupted by the sound of the violins last slow note. Relief washed over me, we both clapped alongside everyone else and I gave my parting bow as I turned for the escape exit.</p>
<p>“Might I join you? There are questions that have not yet been answered.” He said to my back.</p>
<p>I quickened my pace focusing on the French-styled doors ahead of me. He continued to follow after me and we both stopped when I reached for the handle. The French doors had many glass panels in decorative thin rectangles around the perimeter, but beyond the glass appeared to be a garden with many walking paths. <em>“Fantastic.”</em> I mentally rolled my eyes and looked up at him incredulously and decided against my better judgement to come out with it.</p>
<p>“What do you want with me, Mr. Darcy?” I spat, narrowing my eyes. I was determined to appear brave instead of cowardly.</p>
<p>Stunned by my shatter persona, he pulled his gaze away from me to the door handle. “Let’s discuss this outside. Perhaps we can have a stroll?” he suggested. He gives me a small smile and his face softs.</p>
<p>“How do I know you won’t kill me as soon as these doors close?” Some of the cowardice escaped my voice at the mention of “kill”, I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin.</p>
<p>“Hmm…” He ponders, reading my face with that same amusement he wore earlier. “How about I give you my word?”</p>
<p>“Your <em>word</em>?” I laugh without humor, “and what good would that do?”</p>
<p>His face, suddenly, is very serious. “I do not give out my word if I have no intention of keeping it.” Strangely, I believe him. More importantly, it did not feel like I had much of a choice <em>but</em> to believe him. I may die no matter what I choose to do.</p>
<p>“I- “, I looked back to the ball with envy, wishing desperately that Charlotte would come check on me right at this moment. “Alright then, on your word.”</p>
<p>He pulled open the French doors and we stepped out into the cool moonlit night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sounds of cheer and music were fading as we strolled farther from the main house. Mr. Darcy is quiet as he admires the garden around us. I look up at the stars and, as always, am washed over with awe. The peculiar thing about living in the 1810’s and being from the 2010’s is having the perspective to appreciate the absence of light pollution in the sky. I can see so much detail and color. If I ever make it home, I will be sad to see it gone.</p>
<p>I look over to Mr. Darcy. “You have me here, what in heavens could you possibly want?” I say as I try to keep my bravado up.</p>
<p>He turns from a flowerbed and says matter of factly, “I want to know why you are still here, time traveler?”</p>
<p>“<em>Still</em>?” I thought. “What do you mean?” I said aloud.</p>
<p>He smiled humorously, “I’ve heard the talk of the town. Young girl suddenly shows up covered in a dirty, poorly sewn dress on the door step of the Collins residence. She is said to have a strange accent and is unknowledgeable of common things?” he mocked lightheartedly. I hadn’t realized that my dress had been so easily recognized as amateur. I had sewn it myself in preparation for a trip to this time with my family. I had followed an online tutorial very carefully! It never got Mom’s approval before I snuck off. I shake the memory away. </p>
<p>“That may be so but no one else has dwelled on it. Why have you?” I ask, trying to find his intention.</p>
<p>Mr. Darcy’s teasing smile dims as he takes a few steps closer to me until we are a yard apart. His fingers are curled around his thumbnail and, gesturing his ring at me, he asks, “what do you know about this?”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Mom hurried from the stairs, her copper hair was messy from the long stressful day and her eyes were shifting around the room as she scurried over to our table. She grabbed Dad’s arm and shook it a little, “Sal, we’ve got to leave <em>now</em>.”</p>
<p>“Valerie, calm down, you’re spilling my beer,” Dad let go of his mug, shaking off the foam that spilled onto his right hand.</p>
<p>Mom sat down next to him and started whispering quickly, “We’re not safe here, Sal. That old woman told me that vampires had burned down that town. She told me that they have been coming at night and snatching people and childr- “her voice broke but she took a steadying breath. “<em>They took children from their</em> <em>beds</em> <em>Sal</em>.” She hissed.</p>
<p>Dad didn’t budge as mom yanked on his coat. “There ain’t no damn vampires killing children,” he said gruffly into his drink.</p>
<p>I had been counting Dad’s drinks over the last two hours, he was on mug number four. Granted it had just been poured and now spilled a bit but his face was flushed and he had only just been grinning a moment earlier telling me a story about how he and mom had gone to Kyoto, Japan to be entertained by geishas in 1932 for their honeymoon before Mom had come downstairs. I was not surprised that he wasn’t taking mom seriously. I, on the other, hand had goosebumps.</p>
<p>Mom leaned in even closer to Dad, “She knows about the rings.”</p>
<p>“What rings?” I piped in. Dad was staring at mom with widened eyes. After a minute I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, the shadows, I realized, had been casted from the fireplace in the corner but were nonetheless making me jumpy.  “<em>What rings, </em>Mom?” I pressed.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Darcy stood waiting for my answer. I looked around, suddenly very aware of the necessity to be alone for this conversation but also still hoping that we would be interrupted and I would be free from this occult discussion. I sigh. “<em>What the hell?”</em></p>
<p>“When I was an adolescent, my mother and father took me to visit my nan’s birthplace in Ireland, when we arrived it had been burnt down. We were told that children had gone missing and that it was the doing of vampires. The villagers attempted to kill them off with fire as was superstition, but the fires became unmanageable.” I pause, searching for some sort of reaction. He is listening patiently and gestures for me to continue.</p>
<p>It’s quite chilly now as the wind has picked up, I wrap my arms around myself. “An old lady warned my mother about tall handsome men with gold rings and black gems on their thumbs for this is the mark of beasts.” We were both looking at his ring now. “That is all I know,” I lied.</p>
<p>He continues to stare at his ring, twisting it round and round, “Ah, I see.” We stand there silent for a moment. “You are trapped here, are you not?”</p>
<p>I shift my weight and debate what to say. If I am to tell the truth would that make me vulnerable? If I am to lie, will he force me to leave and be exposed as a liar? I decide to meet in the middle. “Temporarily,” I reply.</p>
<p>“Temporar- “he starts.</p>
<p>“-Elizabeth? Are you out here?” Jane Bennet calls from the French doors behind Mr. Darcy. He does not turn around right away. His brows are knitted and his lips are now in a hard line.  </p>
<p>“I must be going now,” I mutter to Mr. Darcy. To Jane I shout, “Yes, thank you. I’ll be right there!”</p>
<p>Perhaps I was overwhelmed by the sudden flood of paranormal that found its way to me today after living such a dull repetitive life these last four years, for I was not foreign to strange incidents. I had grown up with them all of my life but looking at Mr. Darcy in this moment lit something aflame in me. Although he is potentially dangerous and absolutely not to be trusted, I felt a thrill standing here with him. My eyes might have given me away slightly, as his face relaxed.</p>
<p>I give him a small bow and start towards Jane. As I pass, Mr. Darcy says, “We will visit again soon, Elizabeth. We have much more to discuss.” I quicken my pace. From fear or excitement, I could not tell.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, good heavens Elizabeth, where had you gone off to? One moment I see you with Lydia and the next you’re sauntering around with some strange man?” Charlotte cuts me a look.</p>
<p>“You were the one who told me to lighten up,” I grumble. She must not have seen me dancing earlier.</p>
<p>We follow the crowd toward the exit, who are occasionally nodding and waving to acquaintances around us. My smile is tight and it is starting to hurt my cheeks. I’m exhausted.</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean- Oh sorry dear,” Charlotte pats Mrs. Flint on the hand as we pass after bumping into her elbow. She starts again on me, this time with the sense to whisper, although it comes off as a hiss, “I didn’t mean that you should run off with a strange man outside in the garden. Jane told me it looked as if you two were very familiar with each other.” She shoots me a disapproving look.</p>
<p>“<em>Of course, precious Jane would think that,</em>” I thought snidely. “<em>She’s a Disney princess</em>”.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you want to hear, Charlotte. He simply wanted some fresh air and company,” I lie. </p>
<p>I see Mr. Collins standing by our carriage. “If I could give you excruciating detail on the logistics of my new secret romance, Charlotte, I would gladly. But I am sorry to report the utter and complete lack of interest that was our brisk walk.”</p>
<p>Charlotte grabs my arm and comes to a stop several feet from the carriage. There are many people walking about laughing and talking. Most people appear to be drunk and not paying any attention to us, which helps soothe my nerves considering her odd and borderline aggressive behavior. “Who was the man you were with?” Charlotte says.</p>
<p>I don’t often see her acting in such a severe way, it was a bit intimidating to be quite honest. What’s worse is that I cannot decipher why she is so upset. Hadn’t she been the one to push me to dance with a man? Why is she so upset now? I look away from her gaze and over her shoulder trying to escape her searching eyes. Immediately my eyes lock with Mr. Darcy’s as he is chatting with Mr. Bingley, as if they were drawn by a magnet.  </p>
<p>“Mr. Darcy,” I breathe.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every Sunday afternoon Charlotte invites Anne de Bourgh and Jane Bennet over to play cards or embroider or do some other mindless activity as a front for their scheme, which is to dissect the weekly tittle-tattle. I was always roped in to play Loo or Whist, which was similar to bridge back home, in an attempt to be inclusive. I, however, am not so disillusioned that I believe this gesture to be anything but forced politeness. Charlotte may enjoy my company, but I know the others think I am odd.</p>
<p> If the gossip ran dry Jane would sometimes read whatever mundane book she had brought. This, of course, was carried on her person at all times, just in case. Today happens to be one of those cases. I couldn’t help but ponder why we were all sitting around Charlotte’s drawing room listening to Jane drone on and on from “<em>The Mysteries of Ferney Castle</em>”. Had there not been a ball yesterday? Surely there was plenty to talk about, although I have a gnawing feeling that I was the object of what they truly wanted to chat about. I sigh.</p>
<p>As I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, I wish as I usually did when Jane read us literature, that I could lose myself in a sitcom to ease my boredom. Oh, how I miss television! I groan internally and sit up before I hurt my feelings further.</p>
<p>Jane is sitting ramrod straight by the window to my left reading aloud to us. Charlotte and Anne are sitting next to each other on the couch adjacent to me. They’re both embroidering whilst they listen, Anne is smiling absentmindedly.</p>
<p> My eyes linger on Anne for an extra breath as I cannot help but take in her beauty. Anne has a uniqueness about her that I haven’t often come across and I’ve met a lot of people in my travels. She seems quite plain upon first glance, which is why, I assume, she is looked over by men. Well, that and her health, but upon further inspection she is actually quite beautiful. She has dark features, thick lashes, straight black hair that is always tucked into a bonnet, and round rosy cheeks. I get the impression that she is always trying to hide herself from the world. In all my time here, I’ve exchanged very few words with her.</p>
<p> Often, I find that I am jealous of Anne and Charlotte's relationship. They are inseparable when Anne visits on Sunday afternoons but that is the only time I see them together. Charlotte, by favor of her good health, visits Anne at the de Bourgh residence up the path upwards to five times in a week.</p>
<p> I glance over to Anne and catch her looking over to Charlotte and back down to her needlework quickly, her rosy cheeks are brightening in color. I cock my head quizzically.</p>
<p>Jane interrupts my curious stare when she announces the start of the seventh chapter. I quickly seize my opportunity to escape, leaping from the couch. I cannot take another word of this horrifyingly dry book.</p>
<p>“I’m terribly sorry but I must intervene,” I say looking from Jane to Charlotte, “I’m afraid I have a dreadful headache and see that it be best if I retire to my room for the remainder of the day.” I attempt to appear in pain by bringing my hand to my right temple and making a small rubbing motion.</p>
<p>Everyone seems a bit startled for a moment but sweet Charlotte puts down her embroidery circle and stands up. “Can I get you anything? Some water, perhaps?” She asks.</p>
<p>“Do not give me a second thought, it is but a headache. I think I will recover quite nicely after a bit of rest.” I wave dismissively.</p>
<p>“Alright then.” Charlotte gives me a smile, taking her seat.</p>
<p>I give them an apologetic look and head out the door, to the right and down three doors to where my room resides. I grab the door knob and lean my forehead on the cool closed bedroom door preparing myself for another long night of self-isolation. “<em>Maybe I really do have a headache</em>,” I think.  </p>
<p>Just as I am about to twist the knob, I hear a muffled “Finally!” followed by some quiet giggling. “<em>So, they </em>were<em> waiting for me to leave. Fantastic.” </em>I can only imagine the extravagantly ridiculous theories they will come up with.</p>
<p>As tempting as it is to eavesdrop, I decide against it. What would be the purpose but to seek out animosity? I am stuck here until I find the traitorous cloak I need to get back home. My chest pangs as it often does when I think about that night, four years ago. If only I hadn’t been so hellbent on obtaining an authentic stay to surprise Mom with for our trip. I had made the dress myself, apparently quite poorly. However, a stay seemed too advanced for my novice sewing skills. Besides an authentic stay would surely impress Mom.</p>
<p>I’d seen Dad use the time machine countless times before and thought nothing of it. ‘I would be in and out in a flash’, I had told myself. I didn’t think to consider how Dad always knew what object was our “cloak” to get home. Another pang rips through my chest with the memory of my ignorance and I take in a shaky breath, letting go of the door knob. Maybe I shouldn’t be alone right now.</p>
<p>I turn my head down the hall to the sounds of shushes and stifled laughter. I hear Jane, not even attempting to lower her voice, “Why does she find it in her best interest to be completely unlikeable to men? Is she so fixed on herself that she is determined to die a spinster?”</p>
<p>“Oh, come now,” Charlotte says through a chuckle, “Mr. Collins won’t let her stay here forever, she’ll have no choice but to give in soon.”</p>
<p>I stiffen.</p>
<p>“Perhaps there is some hope after all, I did find her alone with a man at the ball last night.” Jane says scandalously. “I wonder whom it was?”</p>
<p>The silence hangs for two beats too long before Charlotte says, “She hasn’t confided in me yet,”</p>
<p>“<em>Why is she lying</em>?” I wonder, curiosity compels me and I take a few steps closer as quietly as I could.</p>
<p>“Perhaps it was Mr. Thompson” Charlotte quickly adds. “I know he had asked her for a dance earlier in the evening.”</p>
<p>“I thought she had rejected him?” Anne piped in shyly.</p>
<p>“She did, but it is feasible that he might have approached her again” Charlotte.</p>
<p>“For her own sake, she should pray that he asks for her hand quickly.” Jane says. When she speaks it sounds sweet and honey-like, but there is a mischievousness about Jane that I have never liked.</p>
<p>I turn away from them and head for the front door. Why is Charlotte lying for me? Am I really to be turned out soon? My head is spinning, I need fresh air. Anxiety grips my stomach in a vice and I kick myself for listening in. If I am to be forced to marry soon or face homelessness, what in God’s name shall I do? I’ve looked bloody everywhere for my cloak. I’ve touched every tree, every bush, every single boulder in that bloody forest. That’s where the machine dropped me, that’s where the cloak should be!  </p>
<p>When I get to the front door, I find Mr. Collins to my left in his garden. When he spots me, he waves to greet me. I try to appear normal and muster up a wave before hooking a right and round the house to the forest. It’s crucial to be quick with my escape in order to avoid a lengthy and awkward conversation with him. Bless the man for his kindness but it has not escaped me that he is not, at all times, looking for warm bodies to boast to about his successes, whatever they may be. And if Charlotte meant what she said then I cannot bother myself with forced politeness at the moment.</p>
<p>The sun has perhaps an hour or two left of light to give, and I intend to make the most of it. When I first arrived on the Collins’ doorstep, I had already combed the entire forest looking for my way back home with the stay I had just purchased, under my dress. Of course, I had been dirty and scratched up. The hem of my olive-green dress was destroyed. Charlotte literally gasped out loud when she saw me. Neither of them ever speaks of that day and the bizarre nature of my behaviors. They simply took me in after realizing that I had no place to go. Charlotte was so kind to me, especially in the early days when the reality of what I had done would leave me in hysterics. I was only nineteen after all.</p>
<p>Remembering that transformed my anxiety into hurt. “<em>Is she really going to throw me out</em>?” My pace slows but I only allow myself to feel that pain for a moment before reminding myself that the most important thing I can do right now is to find my cloak.</p>
<p>I’m almost to the forests edge now.  I throw one last look over my right shoulder to find Mr. Collins is shaking his head pulling at his weeds. It has been a while since I have disappeared into the forest, I wonder if they had been relieved that I gave up my secret adventures two years ago? I had never stopped to think if it might have bothered them. I shake off whatever disappointment Mr. Collins may be feeling and focus on what I need to do.</p>
<p>“<em>I will not give up. I will find a way home. I will find the damn cloak if it kills me</em>.” I affirm. “<em>Perhaps after all of these years it has manifested itself to a new, more obvious object</em>?” I dare to hope. “<em>Maybe a ten-foot tree with a sign pointed to it that has my name in big bold letters</em>?” I step over a fallen branch as I enter the forest, touching the trees on either side of me.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I stood there staring at the moss-covered tree trunk trying to decide if I’d rather sit on that or directly on the forest ground covered in dead leaves and dirt. Either way would surely result in a stained bum but the thought of an insect crawling up my dress made for a quick deliberation. I sit down on the tree trunk, welcoming the relief on my feet. It had been over an hour and although the heels of my shoes weren’t more than an inch in height, they are still awfully uncomfortable to hike around in a forest. At least it hadn’t rained for a few days, the ground was only a tad damp.</p>
<p>The sun’s rays were shining at a slant through in a few places now indicating that I didn’t have much daylight left. I had touched at least a hundred trees in the last hour. The forest isn’t too terribly thick, each tree has about two to four feet of space separating them. I try to take a moment to admire the colors and smells of the forest without the obsessive thoughts to find my “cloak”. It truly is beautiful here.</p>
<p> “Has it really been two years since the last time I’ve visited you?” I say aloud as if talking to an old friend. I’ve spent so much time here since I was “dropped off”. The trees surrounding me do feel comforting, even if I feel a touch of resentment every time I give up and head back to the Collins home instead of my own. I sigh, “I’m sorry,” I utter more to myself than the forest.</p>
<p>I sit there for several minutes making a tremendous effort of convincing myself that I do not want to be here after sunset. Despite my hurting feet I feel very energized and the thought of going home now brought on a fresh wave of anguish, though staying out past dark would make Charlotte unnecessarily upset. The rational part of me knows that Charlotte’s concerns were valid and touching, but the modern woman part of me is immensely irritated that I am twenty-three years old and am being forced to waste my youth in a world I do not want to be in.</p>
<p> I rarely allow myself to day dream of what my life would be like right now if I had never foolishly tried to use my fathers time machine alone. A brief vision of cuddling on a couch watching TV in pajamas flashes before me. Then another of me hanging up my car keys on a hook next to the front door of my own apartment while greeting my cat Tulip. I leap off the stump before my daydreaming becomes unmanageable and tears me apart.</p>
<p>Sunlight is dwindling rapidly now and I pick up my pace heading west for the Collins’ home. Thankfully the sun is setting in that direction allowing me to see where I’m stepping. The closer I get to the forest’s edge the more suspicious I become that a figure is standing off to my right. Could it be Charlotte? It wouldn’t be the first time she has come to the forest looking for me, although it has been a while.</p>
<p>“Charlotte?” I call when I am confident that I’m close enough for her to hear me. She doesn’t say anything. I change my trajectory from the nearest exiting point to where Charlotte is standing about a hundred feet to my right. “<em>What’s her problem</em>?” I wonder as I approach her shadowy silhouette.</p>
<p>I hike up my dress a tad to stretch my leg over a fallen dead tree using my left hand for balance while I swing my other leg over. The sun has almost completely set now and fright pimples my arms. I hastily close the remaining gap between me and Charlotte. “Wha- what’re you doing, Charlotte?” I ask between gasps, holding my chest. I look up at the figure and freeze.</p>
<p>“I’m looking for you, Miss. Elizabeth,” a man says smiling down at me.</p>
<p>I stumble back, a scream building in my throat before I fall backwards over the dead tree I had just climbed over. I land on squishy moss and quickly push myself upright with my elbows.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry! I’m dreadfully sorry!” the man said approaching me. My eyes darted into what is now a deep dark forest and back to this stranger holding his palms facing out towards me as if to convey surrender.</p>
<p>“What in the bloody hell do you want?” I barked, fear devouring any polite advice Charlotte had ever taught me.</p>
<p>The man takes a step back. “Firstly, I want to ask for your forgiveness for frightening you. It was not my intention.” He pauses scanning my disgusted face. “Secondly, I came here to inform you that you are in danger Miss. Elizabeth and I want to help you.”</p>
<p>“<em>You</em> want to help protect <em>me</em> from danger?” If my heart wasn’t crushing my ribs at rapid speed I would laugh at the irony.</p>
<p>The man takes another step back without saying anything. He stood there silently. It appears that he is giving me a moment to collect myself, I look over my right shoulder and wonder if I might stand a shot at getting home safely if I push off this tree I’m up against and make a run for it. The man shifts his weight to his other foot and I get a good look at him now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness. He is perhaps a couple inches shy of six feet in height although he still towers over me. He has long brown wispy hair and thick eyebrows; he is holding his hands behind his back and is trying to appear innocent. My flight response is becoming more manageable but I do not let my guard down.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” I ask.</p>
<p>“My name is Mr. Wickham,” he said while swooping down in a dramatic bow. “As I have already stated, you are in danger Miss. Elizabeth and I want to help you.”</p>
<p>“And you thought the best way to go about that would be to follow me into a dark forest?” I said sarcastically.</p>
<p>He chuckled, “I thought I had more daylight to find you, I caught Mr. Collins on his way out and he directed me to the forest. Might I ask uh, why are you in a forest at night?” His voice is teasing but I did not find it amusing.</p>
<p>“That is no concern of yours.”</p>
<p>His eyebrows lift with surprise, a telling trait of his, I am sure.</p>
<p>“Were you by chance looking for something?” He pressed.</p>
<p>“<em>What is he getting at? Did Mr. Collins already tell him a story</em>?” I wonder, what I say is, “I don’t see how I choose to spend my leisure time is any of your business Mr. Wickham.” I retort.</p>
<p>His friendly smile is frozen on his face but his eyes narrow ever so slightly. He takes a few steps towards me and my heart accelerates again. “<em>Charlotte will hear me if I scream, she’ll bring Mr. Collins and his musket…</em>” that thought is interrupted by a worse thought “<em>I caught Mr. Collins on his way out…” </em>Mr. Collins isn’t home anymore. He knew he had me alone. I start to panic again.</p>
<p>Mr. Wickham stopped just before me. I resist the urge to shrink away from him. He asks, “What do you know about Mr. Darcy?”</p>
<p>“What about Mr. Darcy?” I don’t waste a moment. “I know he is a wealthy businessman. I occasionally spot him at a ball or a party. I hardly give him a thought at all. Why are you asking me this?” This comes out in a rush. Nothing I said is technically a lie. Before last night I had not paid Mr. Darcy much mind. At first it was out of respect for our ranks, but after seeing the ring on his thumb for the first-time months ago my indifference turned into avoidance. I had never seen a vampire in person and had no intention to, that is, until I had no choice.</p>
<p>Mr. Wickham didn’t say anything, he simply stared down at me. I am aware that he is trying to intimidate me so I hold his gaze, determined not to give anything away. He has long eyelashes, angular features, and stubble around his chin and upper lip, he is objectively attractive. If we had met under better circumstances, I might have giggled about him to Charlotte some Sunday afternoon. I have not met many attractive men in all of my time here. But these were not better circumstances and I indeed, feel threatened. If he is going to try to extract information out of me by attempting to come off as friendly then I have the upper hand.</p>
<p>“If you are not the one putting me in danger then I suggest you tell me who is or let me be on my way” I puff up trying to make myself bigger or at least, braver.</p>
<p>After another moment he grins again, “Of course we can discuss this another time, how inappropriate it is that I have you here in a dark forest. You must be scared; I insist you allow me to walk you home.” He steps back and turns toward the edge of the forest, gesturing for me to follow him.</p>
<p>Every instinct that I have is telling me not to go but what choice do I have? Cower in the dark or trust this stranger takes me home? It wasn’t much of a choice so I follow next to him, making sure to keep some distance between us. I can’t shake the horrible feeling I have churning in my stomach.</p>
<p>We walked in silence for a moment. He has a pleasant walk; he stands very tall with his shoulders back. A light reflects off of his hand and I leaned in for a closer look. “<em>Men wear rings all the time, it’s not abnormal, perhaps he is married</em>.” I remind myself, trying to calm my superstitious mind. I catch another glimpse of the gold ring and gasp when I see it is wrapped around his thumb. I quickly straighten up as not to give myself away.</p>
<p>He looks over his shoulder and stops walking when he sees my face. “Is something the matter?” he fakes concern.</p>
<p>“Not at all”, I lie, “I merely saw a large spider.” I say as steadily as I can, though I am not unsuccessful. He doesn’t look convinced either but he turns around regardless and continues to lead us to the house.</p>
<p>We pass the garden and curve around the house to the front door. I anxiously reach for the doorknob ready to put space and a heavy door between us as fast as I can, when Mr. Wickham interrupts me by stretching his arm in front of the door. “Stay away from Mr. Darcy, Miss Elizabeth.” He sounds so earnest. “I fear for your life.”</p>
<p>I stare at him, confusion and anger suddenly take over my fear. “Maybe you could find it in your heart to send me a letter next time.” I nearly spat before wrenching the door open and slamming it behind me. I lock it immediately and slide against the door to the ground. My nerves are shot and I am suddenly and overwhelmingly exhausted.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>“How many are there? What sort of danger am I in? Where is that God forsaken</em> cloak<em>?” </em>The chaotic buzz of thoughts swirled around my mind until it became nothing more than background noise. My nerves are shot, I don’t know what to feel, and I am exhausted. I stare at a fly dancing around on the floor in front of me, slouching offensively. I didn’t want to think anymore, I just want to go to bed, though it couldn’t be later than seven.</p>
<p>The grandfather clock chimed from the sitting room encouraging me to get up. I did, and in doing so, felt the soreness throbbing from my right elbow, which took the main brunt of my fall earlier, the back of my right calf stung a bit too. I quickly pull my dress up enough to examine my leg. There is a long pink line carved vertically up my calf but the skin had not been punctured, neither had my elbow but the bruising would be noticeable. I hadn’t even thought about what the consequences might have been if I had opened a wound. I am too exhausted to envisage it now. Instead, I grab the candle holder resting on the table next to the front door and light it, making sure to shield the flame with my other hand as I head off to bed.  </p>
<p>I turn down the hall to my room but stop when I notice that a flickering light is coming from underneath the sitting room door, which is, oddly, closed. Charlotte is probably worried about me, and with Mr. Collins gone off doing god knows what… I decide to relieve her of her worries.</p>
<p>“Charlotte?” I knock lightly three times before swinging open the door. “I’m home- “, I catch a glimpse of Charlotte quickly leaning away from Anne in an awkward way. The room is softly lit with several candles around the room, after sitting in the dark for several minutes just moments ago, my eyes do not have to adjust to see what is going on. I didn’t need more than that first glimpse to understand what is happening, honestly.</p>
<p>They are both panting and look impossibly flushed in the candlelit light. Strands of hair have fallen out of Charlotte’s bun and her shoes have been kicked off onto the floor. She looks so frightened as she searches my face frantically. I look over to Anne and see that the skin of her chest has pink marks and her bonnet is on the arm of the couch. Her dress is pulled up higher than seems natural sitting.</p>
<p>“Oh,” I manage “I’m so sorry, I should have uh,” I let the apology fall to the floor. “<em>Should I have what?</em>” I think. I have no idea how to respond to this. Back home a simple “Sorry!” would have sufficed. It wasn’t a big deal if your friend was hooking up with another woman. Although she is married. “<em>Oh Christ, what am I supposed to do? I’m completely out of my element.</em>”</p>
<p>Charlotte finally manages to look over to Anne who has not looked up from her shaking hands in her lap once. In fact, her whole body is trembling and tears have started to fall. Charlotte goes to reach for her but stops short, returning her hand back to her lap, defeated.</p>
<p>“I- uh, I didn’t-, I won’t- “, I stammer trying to find a way to reassure them. Instinctively, I want to comfort them. I want to tell them that everything will be okay and that I would never betray them with this secret. Instead, I just stand there, looking at my dear friend in pain, unsure how to comfort her or her lover because I just don’t know what to do.  How am I supposed to act in 1815? Any hint at homosexual romance would be written off in history as “just being good friends” which is clearly the case now. Or they’d be met with violence, or even worse yet, death. “<em>Where do I fall in this? Am I an accomplice if I know about their relationship and keep quiet?</em>” I ponder.</p>
<p> A sob from Charlotte throws my selfish worries to the wind and my instinct kicks in. “Oh Charlotte, please don’t cry! I won’t tell a soul, I promise! You can trust me.” I sit between them and hug Charlotte with one arm and squeeze Anne’s hand with the other. Neither of them says anything. They’re both openly weeping, from fear or relief, I could not tell but I worried it is the latter. We sit like that for a while before a thought occurs to me.</p>
<p>“Where is Mr. Collins?” I whisper.</p>
<p> This must have startled them because they both shoot up and head over to the mirror above the mantle wiping at their face and fixing their hair. “He- he told me he had so-some business to do in t-town for Mr. Wick-h-ham.” Charlotte says through her residual sobs. Her eyes are so puffy, I worry about what excuse she was going to tell him when he returns.</p>
<p>“Mr. Wickham?” I say more to myself, then louder for Charlotte “When will he be back?” I press.</p>
<p>“He is s-staying at the Blakemore House tonight.” Her blush returns and she covers her mouth with her hand, resting her thumb on her right cheek, her gaze is fixed to the floor.</p>
<p>I choose to ignore Charlotte’s embarrassment over her spoiled night as I am distracted by my own alarm bells ringing in my head. The, all too familiar, adrenaline makes my palms slick and tingly. “<em>What is going</em> on<em>?”</em> My jaw clenches and my mind begins to race again. It didn’t make any sense. What could these damn vampires possibly want? How in the world could Mr. Collins be of any assistance to Mr. Wickham? What does any of this have to do with me?</p>
<p>“Elizabeth?” A soft voice interrupts my thought spiral. I look up at Anne with surprise. She’s carrying a candle holder and is no longer crying, in fact, if it weren’t for her red nose and slightly glossy eyes, I wouldn’t have been able to tell at all.</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>She looks over to Charlotte, who has resorted to fingernail biting even after I’ve told her a million times to stop it. I don’t know what Anne saw in her at that moment but she proceeded “We need to talk about what you saw and what everyone’s intentions may be.” Anne has never looked more significant to me before. This was a whole new side of her. I felt commanded, like she will be taking over from here and we are going to listen to her plan. I welcomed this.</p>
<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
<p><strong>Authors Note</strong>: Okay I'm all caught up now. I'll be posting a new chapter every weekend. I hope you're enjoying the story so far, and if you're not, that's okay too. Tell me about it!</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Authors Note</strong>: Again, I'm really sorry for the delay in uploads. I was completely consumed by Stardew Valley for a while and then after I finished most of my next chapter Texas collapsed into a waterless, powerless, tundra. UGH. But its back to business! To anyone still reading this, please know that I appreciate you!</p>
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<p>“Have you applied to the university yet?” Dad asked as he plopped down for breakfast at the table. He had been pestering me all week and, to be honest, I was running out of excuses. I l turned my begging eyes over to Mom, who was finishing up breakfast, and willed her to interject to no avail.</p>
<p>“Uh, no, not yet.” I said aloofly.  </p>
<p>“Lizzie, you have to stop putting this off. The deadline is a few weeks away. We all know how much you like to procrastinate and I don’t want to take any chances.”</p>
<p>The thing was, I knew he was concerned about my financial future and had my best interest at heart but I just didn’t see the appeal of college when Mom and I spent so much time traveling. It would just get in the way and I learned so much more from <em>experiencing it.</em> Of course, I had already explained this to him thoroughly, however, it did not stop him from ranting on about how, “Time traveling doesn’t pay the bills. You still have to have a home to come back to. It’s in no one’s interests to be a homeless time traveler. Education is important.” On and on he went. He didn’t understand that I could not find a point in coming back to a permanent home when they were no longer around.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know,” I said with too much attitude. I finally looked at him expecting to see anger or disappointment but he just looked sad. This caught me off guard so I added, “I’ll apply tonight, I promise.” I gave him a half smile, partially because I wanted to reassure him but mostly because that’s all I could muster. He went back to his newspaper.</p>
<p>Mom joined us with breakfast. Pancakes and scrambled eggs for the two of us, Dad got sausage with his. Mom and I couldn’t stomach sausage anymore after a trip to Chicago in 1907. Congress had just passed the Pure Food and Drug Act in America the year before mandating meat-inspections and after hearing a few stories about how rats and their poisoned bread were ground up into the sausage, well, we just couldn’t stomach the stuff anymore. Nevermind the hundred years that had passed. “Meat is meat,” Dad had said, “I’ve had worse.”</p>
<p>We ate in silence for a while. It was tempting to let it continue and be done with the topic but I couldn’t stop myself from trying one last time. “Would it really be so bad if I took one more year off? I’m having so much fun traveling. And besides, I’ve never been to public school before! I have no idea how it works or what to say or how to study-“</p>
<p>“Dammit Elizabeth!” Mom and I jumped from Dad’s outburst. “You’re going to university in the Fall and I don’t want to hear another word about it!”</p>
<p>Tears stung my eyes. I wasn’t hungry anymore.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>I woke up with a heaviness bearing down on my chest. It was the last conversation Dad and I had before I snuck off to use the time machine after he’d gone off to work. I thought getting a stay would cheer me up and make mom excited for our trip to England in 1815. He probably thinks I ran away. How could he know that I’ve been stuck here for years? I had never used the machine by myself before. I thought I understood how it worked. Put in the latitude and longitude coordinates and a date, down to the exact time you wanted to show up and poof! Off you go. I hadn’t paid a dime of my attention on how we would get home. Dad always led the way.</p>
<p>A gentle knock at my bedroom door brought me back to myself. “Lizzie, may I come in?”</p>
<p>I stare at the ceiling, annoyed, for a few moments longer than is probably polite. It couldn’t be helped; it appears that the quiet normal life that I had grown to tolerate here has ended. Of all the ridiculousness going on around me, Charlotte and Anne are the least of my worries. They will be quite alright if they can be more careful in the future. However, one of them isn’t ready to let what happened last night go.  </p>
<p>“Come in,” I sigh, rolling onto my side to face her.</p>
<p>“Still in bed?” Charlotte says when she sees me.</p>
<p>“I had quite a long night.” I say rubbing the sleep out of my eye.</p>
<p>“Uh, yes. Yes you did.” She still looks anxious as she wouldn’t meet my eyes even as I followed her movement around the room touching and straightening my books or letters, all of which have been addressed by her to check on me when she and Mr. Collins are off on a business trip. My annoyance soon melted into compassion for my dear friend and I sat up right extending my hands in front of me.</p>
<p>“Please sit down now, you are spreading your nerves around my room. Don’t touch another thing but that chair.” I pointed to the chair by my small bookcase. “What is bothering you? I thought we cleared everything up last night.” I say the last part in a hushed tone for fear of being overheard by her husband.</p>
<p>She sits down and puts her blushing face into her hands. “Oh Lizzie- “, she starts.  </p>
<p>“That’s quite enough,” I interject, “I will not sit here and listen to you shed another tear over this. In the instance that you might have forgotten, Anne and I have sorted all of this out. What you two do is of no concern to mine and I do not think ill of you in the slightest.” Her face remains buried in her hands but I could see her chin quivering now.</p>
<p>I cross my small room to kneel before her. “I will never love you less for whom you choose to love,” I stroke her hair back behind her ear. “I will never betray you, Charlotte. Please trust that you have nothing to fear.”</p>
<p>She takes in deep slow breaths and releases them similarly. I place her hands in mine and give them a kiss. “It will be okay, love” I assure her. We sit like that until her shaking stops. I fetched a handkerchief from my drawer and handed it to her.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” she barely managed.</p>
<p>To lighten the mood, I reply “Goodness me Charlotte, what ever am I to do with you?” She smiles and looks down at the handkerchief, folding it over.</p>
<p>“I suppose you are here for the long haul.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 8</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>After parting ways with Charlotte and Anne and agreeing to rendezvous on Cliff Street by two, I head off toward William and Wrights Public Library. I enjoy reading the newspaper when we made a trip into town and would benefit greatly from a new book to read. Jane always reads such dull literature that I suspect is solely to bore me to death during her Sunday visits when the conversations run dry. I, however, have formulated a plan to beat her to the punch next week. I shall offer a much more interesting book to be read aloud by none other than myself. An evil grin spread over my face as I envisaged her pouty face. Absorbed in my malicious fantasy, I clumsily smack into someone as I rounded the corner to the library.</p>
<p>Stunned, I blurted out, “Oh heavens, I am terribly sorry! Please do forgive me, I wasn’t- Oh.” I straighten up. Mr. Darcy stood before me in a deep blue jacket and, I noted, a black undershirt instead of the usual white that men of his rank normally wear. His hair looks a bit ruffled and wispy though it was not a windy day. He appeared to have been caught off guard too. “Um,” I add.</p>
<p>“Miss. Elizabeth, are you okay?” He looks briefly around me, “Where is your company?”</p>
<p>“Company?”</p>
<p>“Are you alone?” The rushed nature of his tone gave me a thrill but I dared not show it. I couldn’t understand it myself.</p>
<p>“I am?” I exaggerate the question, looking up at him. My heart is racing madly yet I do not feel afraid.</p>
<p>He stares at me quizzically for a moment, his eyebrows are furrowed and he nibbles at his left cheek. “Well, that will not do,” he decides after a moment.  I try to intervene but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand, “If I may, I would like to propose an idea.” He pauses and I give him a nod.</p>
<p>“I think it would be wise if you allowed me the opportunity to escort you through town until you wish to be returned safely home.”</p>
<p>“That won’t be necessary,” I say dismissively though I am intrigued.  I <em>do</em> have some questions weighing on me.</p>
<p>“I insist,” he steps closer to me and lowers his voice. “Let me speak bluntly. It is clear that you do not trust me and I will not ask you to cast away your reservations. However, I will ask that you suspend your judgement for the day and trust me when I tell you that I have no intention of harming you. I am an ally, Miss Elizabeth, not a foe. Please let me accompany you under the suspicion that you very well might be in danger.”  </p>
<p><em>Oh, good grief</em>, I think. <em>Not this again.</em></p>
<p>A man passing by slows his pace ever so slightly, giving Mr. Darcy an odd look that he does not notice. He instead continues to await my response. I wonder what would cause the man to stare so blatantly at us, assuming it had to do with our class differences until I look back up to Mr. Darcy and notice how close he is to me. He’s practically leaning over me.</p>
<p>I clear my throat and say loudly, “Mr. Collins is, indeed, quite healthy! His sermon this week is promised to be, in his words, ‘quite helpful to modern women rearing children.” Mr. Darcy leaned away from me almost as soon as I spoke while the noisy bystander shuffled away quickly the moment Mr. Collins’ name was mentioned<em>. It seems his reputation becomes him</em>, I note humorously.</p>
<p>“I am in a desperate search for a lively book,” I offer, “perhaps you can assist me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Emma Parker?” Mr. Darcy offers yet another title.</p>
<p>“Too boring.”</p>
<p>“Hmmm,” he muses, scanning the shelves once more. “How about-“ A grin spreads across his face, “Charlotte Dacre?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” I deadpan, turning back to the shelves in an attempt to hide my blushing face.  “Jane informed me all about ‘The Passions’ and I can assure you, with absolute certainty, that I have no desire to read about a lunatic woman who murders out of jealousy or lust or what have you.” I say crossing my arms over my chest.</p>
<p>“Well then, what would you like to read instead?”</p>
<p>“I have already told you. Something lively, or lighthearted, or dare I say something with a whisper of humor in it! Is it required that every book must be incredibly serious and mind-numbingly dull?”</p>
<p>I cut my eyes to him then and his broad grin has softened. “What?” I ask.</p>
<p>“I know a book you may like. Come along.” He instructs as he makes his way over to the next aisle. I follow him with cautious enthusiasm. His recommendations <em>have</em> disappointed me thus far, after all.</p>
<p>“Here,” he hands me a copy of “Belinda” by Maria Edgeworth. He must have seen the doubt on my face so he adds, “It’s a comedy, like you asked for. I have a suspicion that you will enjoy the clever satire more than the average woman.”</p>
<p>It is odd to hear him make such a subtle reference to my circumstance. Aside from Charlotte who seems to think that my unusual upbringing is rubbish, Mr. Darcy is the only soul who knows about my time travelling. How much he knows is still a mystery to me. Still, it felt good to hear even the smallest hint of comradery. I intend to find out what all he <em>does</em> know.</p>
<p> I grab the book and give it a once over. It hardly looks read at all. I wonder if it is a new publication or perhaps just wildly unpopular. I hoped for the latter. What is deemed a popular read has yet to impress me.</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” I give him a cheeky smile. “I am a traveled person after all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>With my new borrowed book tucked away in my hidden dress pocket, we leave the library. The grandfather clock read eleven as we were leaving, giving me three more hours to- what exactly? After I had found a suitable book, I simply planned to spend the afternoon reading by the river. I looked over to Mr. Darcy as I contemplated what I should do next. I didn’t particularly want to go home so early. Besides, I would have to track down Charlotte and Anne, which I do not want to do. They needed some time alone and I am more than happy to provide that.</p>
<p>“Might I ask where we are going?”</p>
<p>I sigh, “I suppose we should make our way to the river, just east of Westley’s Pottery.”</p>
<p>He nods.</p>
<p>On our way to the river, we pass Lydia and her mother on Park Road, Kitty follows behind at a slower pace. Her head is down and her hand is cradling her face. Lydia on the other hand, is radiating joy as she squeals and jumps around her mother. I swallow the lump that has risen in my throat and quicken my pace. I try to push my mothers face out of my mind but clips of her face flash before me. The lump in my throat slams down into my stomach. <em>Oh god, no. Please stop</em>. Desperately, I look around for some privacy. I see a break in the buildings just down the street and dash towards the clearing.</p>
<p>“You’ll love England!” “Hand me my jacket.” My mother’s voice rings in my ears, “Say cheese, honey!” “You’re fathers just tired, Lizzie.” <em>Stop. </em>“We’ll go on a special trip, just the two of us.” <em>No. Please stop</em>. “If I could go anywhere in the world at any time, I’d always return to the ocean.” Tears spring to my eyes, blurring my vision. “Goodnight Lizzie.”</p>
<p>“STOP!” I scream, swatting a hand away from me. My breath is coming in gasps and my wide-open eyes take a moment to register all of the grass. I realize then that I am on my hands and knees<em>. What happened?</em> I tried to remember getting here but I could not. My face is hot but thankfully the cold numb feeling in my hands is receding, a sign that I had been hyperventilating. I try to take control of my breathing and closing my eyes before sitting back upright. I have to face Mr. Darcy sooner or later. I dread the audience I must have acquired acting like a fool. </p>
<p>When I open my eyes, I see the river in front of me. “Oh.” I say surprised. I look around for a moment until I find Mr. Darcy standing to my left. I noticed that we are completely alone. “Um, where are we?”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 9</p>
<p>“Um, where are we?” </p>
<p>“The river,” He stands tall, squinting over the water, fidgeting with his ring. I attempt to stand up to join him, but am forced back down by a sudden sharp pain at my temples. I gasp slightly bringing my hands up to massage my throbbing headache. That’s odd.</p>
<p>“Are you alright?” There is a touch of concern in his voice, though he makes no effort to come closer to check on me himself. </p>
<p>I clench and unclench my jaw, to alleviate some pressure in my temples. “Perhaps you can explain to me what has just transpired.” I try instead, making a considerable effort to keep the annoyance out of my tone. My head is killing me. </p>
<p>He spins his ring faster now looking deeply uncomfortable. After a few moments he breaks the silence, “This was- I should take you home now.” </p>
<p>I shut my eyes and take a deep breath as I thought of going home to Charlotte, to Mr. Collins, to the kind and wonderful people that took me in when I needed a place to stay and continued to house me when it became clear I would not be staying on as a temporary guest. I thought of my four dull green walls with tiny vine patterns and of all of my furniture that is not really mine. Nothing here is truly mine. I do not want to return home, not to that home. And certainly not without the answers I am looking for.</p>
<p>“Miss Elizabeth,” his soft voice is suddenly next to me. Startled, I lean away from him, falling back on my hands. He is crouched down beside me, sporting a curious expression. “May I assist you?” He held his hand out to me. How did he-? How did I not notice-? He was so quiet! I did not hear him approach me. </p>
<p>Tentatively, I place my hand in his. They are warm and comforting. As he pulls me upright, my questioning eyes do not leave his. We stand there for a moment before he draws his hand back but he does not look away. My heartbeat quickens, intensifying my headache but I breathe through it knowing I will not have another opportunity like this. I have to know if what I think has happened is true. And if so, how? What will that mean for me? </p>
<p>“Have we time traveled?” I ask bluntly.  </p>
<p>Something flashes across his face before he turns his attention to the river. I follow his gaze, shielding the sun from my eyes. </p>
<p>“I have a headache,” I try again, “It was not there before we somehow ended up here, and now I have one. I used to get them when I first started traveling with my mother and father. It’s a side effect.” </p>
<p>“How do you travel, Miss. Elizabeth?” </p>
<p>“How do I travel?” I turn away from the sun to try to read his expression. </p>
<p>“With your family. How did you travel through time?” He looks so genuine in his curiosity. He knows that I am a time traveler, just as I know he is a vampire. Although I do not know much of what that entails. Perhaps he feels the same way about me. I decide to be honest. </p>
<p>“I, uh,” I hesitate, debating how to go about explaining it all to him. “We had a machine. A small uh, metal box that we would sit in. My Dad would work the controls, er, levers, putting in the time and coordinates that he wanted to visit.” It dawns on me that there is no way Mr. Darcy could have put me in a machine without my knowledge. He probably has no idea what I am even going on about. Still, something happened. Before I could speculate how he traveled through time, however, I caught a glimpse of his face. </p>
<p>He looks furious. So much so that I take a step back, frightened. He must have noticed my recoil as he immediately straddles his hand over his eyes, his chest expanding rhythmically as he takes deep breaths. “A moment,” he mutters. <br/>“Have I upset you?” I think about what I had told him and cannot find a rational reasoning for his reaction. Did I not explain it plainly enough? Perhaps I was too simple in my explanation and he took offense.<br/>“I wondered why you did not wear a ring.” He finally admits whilst continuing to shield his eyes, “All this time I had hoped that you kept it home safe, tucked away waiting to use it when you were ready to leave this place. After a few years had passed and you had not returned to your time, I assumed you either wanted to live here permanently or you were trapped.” His hand dropped from his eyes and met mine. “However, you always look so miserable, brooding about town. It was apparent that you were indeed trapped. But now you speak of metal boxes and not a ring.” </p>
<p>“What does it matter if I have a ring or not-.” </p>
<p>“That is how we travel!” He strides toward me. “That is how you were supposed to travel.” </p>
<p>So, we did travel! I bite my cheek to keep from smiling as a wave of hope washes over me. This is my chance! Still, he claims to travel through a ring. How is that possible?</p>
<p>“But your ring marks you as a vampire, how-. “ </p>
<p>“It has dual purpose! All of my kind are marked with the same ring. They give us the ability to travel from place to place in an instant but not in the way that yours would.” </p>
<p>A lump rises in my throat. “And you thought I traveled similarly?” I barely whisper.</p>
<p>“Of course! I have met another of your kind before, humans that travel through the eras. All of them sported rings. All of them remained secretive about their means of travel. Was it wrong of me to assume our means of travel are similar? Miss Elizabeth?” His anger softens. </p>
<p>A hot tear rolls down my cheek. Crushing waves of disappointment beat against my chest. “I am foolish.” I say through a stifled sob. “I believed you could help me.” I should never have allowed myself such a luxury. </p>
<p>He retrieves a handkerchief from his inside pocket and hands it to me, turning his attention to the river, giving me some privacy as I collect myself. Grey clouds have made their way through the sky giving us relief from the sun, for which I am thankful. We are silent for a long while. My disappointment is mirrored on his face. </p>
<p>“I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I knew it was a risk to expose this tool to you, but I felt I had no choice. You seemed to be deep in the terrors of your mind and there were many people around. I was careful not to let them see us, thankfully, I am skilled in the art of illusion.” He takes a deep breath. “I did not mean any harm by it. I thought you would understand. I thought, perhaps, you could help me.” </p>
<p>This surprised me. “You thought I could help you? What could you possibly need help with?” </p>
<p>“That is for another time. I think I should return you to your home now.” He gives me a small smile. “I do not particularly like to be rained on and I am without an umbrella.” </p>
<p>The smell of rain is obvious now. A small patch of field far across the river is being doused. I would argue that we have plenty of time but think it best to not push it further. For now. </p>
<p>“When shall I see you again?” As I say it, I feel that same hope I felt earlier. Only this time for another reason entirely.</p>
<p>“Soon enough.” He smiles. </p>
<p>My cheeks flush as I take in his handsome features. I turn my back on him quickly to conceal it. “Hurry, before we get caught in the rain.” I say over my shoulder, striding forward in the direction of town. </p>
<p>Suddenly he is before me. Materialized out of thin air. I gasp and smile with delight. “Oh?” I cock an eyebrow. </p>
<p>“If it would please you, I would like to avoid town.” His eyes are teasing.</p>
<p>“Certainly.” Adrenaline courses through my veins and I feel electric. Even the gnawing thought of a worsened headache does not tamper my excitement.</p>
<p>“To make myself abundantly clear, I can only travel location. I cannot take you a minute into the future nor the past. I do not want to see you crumble before me again. Do you understand?” </p>
<p>“I understand,” my smile does not budge. To travel at all is joyous. </p>
<p>“Good. May I?” He lifts up his hand and I nod. He comes around to my side and lays his arm over my shoulders. A thrill goes through me.  “Ready?” </p>
<p>And just like that, we vanished. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Authors Note: I’m so very sorry for the late upload! I hope you guys are well. I was under the weather but I’m feeling much better now.</p>
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